A Guide To House Parties

It's the Summer season, which means trips to the beach, excessive sweating, and random house parties which normally spring up at short notice.


Random House Parties - Springing Up At Short Notice.

To keep you up to speed with the what and the who, we provide a comprehensive guide to House Parties below. Yes, you're welcome, no thanks necessary.

A is for Alcohol. The vital building blocks to a successful house party. A house party without alcohol is like... well...can it really be called a house party? No, no it certainly can't. People who claim to enjoy themselves without the influence of alcohol are liars. Liars or drug users. One of the two. Alcohol can be found in a variety of popular drinks, spoiling us for choice, which leads us to our next letter.

B is for Beer - The golden nectar which you want coursing through your veins. Beer serves as an elixir, giving you the ability to dance incredibly well, make meaningful and articulate conversation, as well as giving you the ability to tell the most amazing jokes. (No matter what you say, people will always be laughing with you)

C is for Chick - A member of the opposite sex (assuming you're a guy of course, if you're a chick then the first bit obviously wouldn't apply) Someone you would like to sleep with. The Chick might make you feel nervous and timid initially, never fear though - drinking Beer should eradicate this symptom and eventually make her want you, especially when you tell her how much you'd like to sleep with her, and show her how well you dance.

D is for Drunk - A period of sustained Beer drinking will see you evolve into this state. Your incredible dancing skills may become slightly impaired (people may start bumping into you) and you may struggle to make meaningful and articulate conversation. (You'll actually struggle to say the words "meaningful" and "articulate") You will however, still have the ability to tell the most amazing jokes. (No matter what you say, people will ALWAYS be laughing with you) If you're Drunk, it's very likely that you won't score the Chick however, so be careful.

E is for Easychick - A cousin of the regular Chick. The Easychick is slightly more forgiving and so will, in all probability, sleep with you - even if you've had copious amounts of Beer and as such, are now shamelessly Drunk.

F is for - Friends. When out partying, make sure you travel with good people, people you can trust. People who let you get pissed, and then snigger to themselves as you lick the feet of Jessica, the hairy shop assistant with the disturbingly deep voice and the body odour problem, are NOT your friends.

G is for - Girlfriend, The. Who will smile and laugh at your general antics at the House Party, as you swing half naked from the entrance hall chandelier, whilst singing "Summer Of 69" by Bryan Adams. Once back at The HQ however, she will proceed to beat you with a bag of oranges, until she has successfully juiced them, and will then drink it slowly in front of you, because you were acting like such an arsehole and fully deserve it. The lesson then, is DO NOT swing half naked from the entrance hall chandelier, whilst singing "Summer Of 69" by Bryan Adams, when The Girlfriend is in the company.

H is for House Parties. A large part of the Xmas season will be made up of House Parties. Some will be thrown by people you know. Some will be thrown by people you DON'T know. In fact, if you're really honest with yourself, most will probably be thrown by people you don't really know - or don't want to know. You're basically just going because they're throwing a House Party and it's going to be good. House Parties are frequented by Chicks and Easychicks.

I is for Irritant. An Irritant is a Friend who follows you around everywhere at a House party. Because he follows you around and generally talks shit, you end up drinking more Beer, making you Drunk, ergo causing you to swing half naked from the entrance hall chandelier, whilst singing "Summer Of 69" by Bryan Adams and setting yourself up as a potential target for a after party beating by The Girlfriend, who starts to crave some orange juice. An Irritant is most often unaware that he's pissing you off, foolishly thinking he's just "hanging out".

J is for Jessica, the hairy shop assistant with the disturbingly deep voice and the body odour problem. DO NOT lick her feet.

K is for Kak Party - The very negative connotation of a House Party. You do not want to throw a Kak Party. K also stands for Kurt Darren incidently. Just thought I'd throw that in there.

L is for Lines ie: Pickup Lines - Once a vital tool for people who lacked self confidence and the ability to dance well, lines are not that effective anymore, as people have become quite cynical these days. Nevertheless, one may still hear the odd one occasionally, although they tend to be quite cringeworthy. Note: Do not use a line like "Do you Come Here Often?" at a House Party. That would just be stupid.

M is for Music - A successful House Party lives and dies by the music being played. Occasionally though, good music may not be enough to save a party. Case in point, I threw a House Party the other day and played banging tunes by Ricky Martin as well as Kurt Darren. Strangely enough, these beats didn't go down well with the crowd and said party was thus considered a failure (Kak Party)

N is for Neighbours - A good House Party needs the support of good neighbours - after all, you'll be playing loud music and being boisterous (whoa, big word) till the early hours of the morning. Most neighbours tend to be quite supportive, although there are the occasional pricks. (Bad Neighbours) Barry (the Token Black Guy) had a problematic 80 year neighbour who complained about the excessive noise and gunshots etc emanating (whoa, big word) from Barry's crib. Barry was then forced to send a bunch of unruly coloured folk to stand outside the old man's gate, eating their gatsbys and generally looking really, really mean. Unsurprisingly, Barry (the Token Black Guy) hasn't heard from him again.

O is for Old Spice. It's a horrible cologne and I am repelled by it. If you're at a House Party and you smell someone wearing Old Spice, avoid them.

P is for Police - The "Five-O", the "Heat" or the "Po-Po". They normally rock up to close down a House Party. (See Bad Neighbours) Then they get antsy when you justifiably swear at them and throw things at their van, resulting in you being thrown in their van.

Q is for Quarts. A conveniently sized 750ml bottle of beer, often seen at various House Parties around Cape Town. Available in a variety of brands (Castle, Lion, Black Label, Amstel, Heineken as well as Hansa Marzen Gold) Can also be effective as a weapon, and serves as a form of currency to homeless people. (The empty bottles can be exchanged for a few cents)

R is for Ricky Martin - The musical legend. As everyone knows, a party ain't a party till Ricky's in the house. And by house I mean, his music being played at the house, I don't really mean he'd physically be in the house. Although that would be f**king AWESOME. Because he's a musical legend. Just like Kurt Darren.

S is for Smokkie. An after-hours haven for drinkers who run out of booze and then recklessly drive around under-the-influence looking for more. Once at the Smokkie, friendly staff will assist patrons by offering a range of brands at competitive prices. Smokkies can come in various guises, ranging from walk-ins (you walk in, buy your shit and leave), sit-downs (you sit down and drink your shit) to drive-throughs (you drive in, collect your shit, and drive out)

T is for Toilet. This may be your best friend later on in the evening. (When you're puking after drinking too much Beer, getting Drunk, and then scoring a Graveldonkey) Toilets can also be embarrassing sometimes though. Like when you go in to take a piss and the person before you unleashed an absolute stinker. There's no air freshener, so you breathe through your mouth (although that's even worse, because the shit particles are entering your mouth now) and do your job. As you leave the bathroom, you see the Hottest Chick ever, waiting outside. You know she's going to think you were responsible for that smelly crap so there's absolutely no chance of you scoring her. Unless that turns her on. But that would just be weird.

U is for Underwear. Always make sure you wear good Underwear when you go to House Parties because you never know when you'll be stripping off. Good Underwear would be those silky black Jockeys which make your balls look huge. Bad Underwear would be that frayed white-grey Disney cartoon boxers with that stubborn pee stains that just won't come out.

V is for Van Wilder. Van (played by Ryan Reynolds) threw the ultimate House Parties. He's an amazing actor and should have won an Oscar for that role.

W is for Window, The Beer - The Beer Window is a period of about 20 mins or so which normally takes place at the beginning of a House Party, when the Alcohol hasn't quite kicked in yet. People tend to make arb, boring small talk and there may be long moments of silence.

X is for Bring.

Y is for Your.

Z is for Own. Geddit? XYZ - Bring Your Own.


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Another Encounter With A Rat

It was a blustery Thursday last week, and I had just pulled up outside the HQ, having taken the car for a bit of a spin, when my spider senses suddenly kicked in.

I immediately rolled into a battle stance, awaiting an attack from an evil villain, long forgotten nemesis, or distant cousin, when I spotted something far far worse.

A mere ten feet away from me, was a brown sewer rat, strolling around and bothering the nearby tourists. An unfortunate Swedish visitor managed to piss off the rodent, as he was wearing a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt, which everyone knows is the WORSE thing you can wear when bumping into a rat. They f**king HATE those Hawaiian shirts.


Brown Rat - Hating Those Hawaiian Shirts

The rat seemed a little drunk, slurring his words and speaking in a rather aggressive manner, and with a swift motion leapt up and bit the Swede's two thumbs off.

Now thumbless, he immediately burst into tears, as he was a professional guitarist back in Stockholm, and his career was basically over, simply for wearing that dodgy shirt.

The rat then came toward me, a cold shiver went up my spine, but I knew I had to be brave and flat out refused to wet myself in front of a rodent. Not again.

"Hey!" I said, with an artificially deep voice, hoping to hide my naked fear.

"F**k Off Rat".

And he did.

Wow, what a close call that was. Seriously though, why are there rats running around in Oranjezicht? I thought we were above all that. Where are my fumigators? I want my fumigators and I want them here NOW.

Jesus Hernandez, thank God I wasn't wearing MY Hawaiian shirt, or I would never be able to play the banjo again.


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Ten Days... WTF?

Yes, it's been ten days of silence, but whilst you've been enjoying the sun, eating your Pronutro (chocolate flavour) and smoking your Dunhill Lights, I've been busy saving the world. Again.

In fact, why am I apologising, you should be thanking me, you ungrateful bastard. Yes, I'm talking to YOU.

So quit bitching.


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Randomly Rambling

Greetings and salutations - yes, it's been a quiet few days, but my return was inevitable, like a giant grey pigeon kakking on your newly washed car. The one that you took to the car wash for a Super Valet service, because it was starting to smell of raw onion, mixed with the faint odour of sex wee. Why did it smell like that? You of course weren't sure, but you suspect it was your drunk friend that Saturday night at FTV, who asked for your car keys to "put away his sports coat" and then disappeared for 35 minutes with that blonde flossie. (floozie)

It's Thursday evening here at The HQ, and the Jameson is going down like a charm right now. Not those cheap charms you may find at a stall in Green Point, but one of those expensive ones that old women with foreign accents try and sell to you in Kalk Bay. As everyone knows, Thursday evenings are Jameson evenings, it was recently gazetted and is now a provincial bylaw. Being a first class citizen, I am thus doing my bit for civil society.


It's Thursday. It's a Jameson Day.

Whilst we all love a stiff Jameson, I also want to take this opportunity to highlight another favourite of ours. Fish Eagle Brandy is starting to work on our emotions, like a flaming red head who you keep seeing on the beach, and then see at Tiger Tiger in Claremont on a Thursday, where she buys you a shooter from across the bar, but you're too afraid to chat to her because she's, well, a flaming red head, and you're game isn't quite equipped to handle those kinds of women.

Kurt The Rep has successfully managed to turn me over to this particular brand of brandy which is no mean feat as brandy always had negative connotations, deriving from the days in the early noughties (circa 2001) when - as broke students - myself, The Gupster and Barry (the Token Black Guy) would rule Stones in Claremont with an iron first, consuming vast amounts of brandy and cokes and sleeping with thousands of women.

Well, at least The Gupster did.

Barry (the Token Black Guy) and myself tended to just watch in awe as Cape Town's Fifth Most Eligible Bachelor cast his huge shadow over us, so we just tended to chat up girls, try some heavy petting at the bar and then watch sadly as he took them away from us.


Cape Town's Fifth Most Eligible Bachelor - Always Taking Them Away From Us.

What was I saying now? ....Just give me a few minutes to read through this quickly....

Yes, as I was saying, we have now become fond of the Fish Eagle Brandy which, if mixed correctly with the right amount of ginger ale, goes down a helluva treat.

It also doesn't leave you feeling like Ghandi's flip flops the next morning, which is always a good thing because NO ONE want to feel like Ghandi's flip flops, because boy that guy could WALK. He loved to walk, did that Ghandi fellow.

Shit, this is so horrible, I'm signing off now.


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Blind Vagrants Have Invaded Cape Town

When I'm not downloading tasteful pornography, making love to The Girlfriend, or watching "The Biggest Loser" on E-tv, I can often be found milling at The Office - a place where I spend a lot of time during the day. It was whilst making the journey to The Office recently, that I made a startling and rather peculiar discovery.

I was not wearing any pants. I was literally sitting behind the wheel in my silk boxers, the one with the stubborn pee stain which just REFUSES to come out.

I wasn't quite sure where my pants were, but the air conditioning offered my loins a refreshing breeze, so I just decided to go with it.

It was then that I made ANOTHER startling and peculiar discovery, which was strange as I'm usually quite content to have just the one per day.

As I stopped at the traffic lights, I realised that I was now denying the existence of the THIRD blind vagrant I had encountered since being on the road that morning. You must have seen this yourself, basically they stand at the traffic lights and slowly walk up and down, aided with a wooden walking stick, as well as a buddy who holds their one hand, as if they are walking down the aisle in matrimonial ceremony. Except that they aren't. They are looking for spare change.


Homeless Vagrant. Similar To What Shaun Saw, Except He Was Blind Too.

Slightly curious, I rolled the window down carefully, low enough to get a good view, without him being able to lunge at me and slobber me with poisonous vagrant saliva, as they are known to do.

"Hey, vagrant," I said authoritively.

"Why are you walking with that stick, and why are your eyes closed?"

He looked at me - well, he didn't really LOOK at me - his eyes were closed, but he turned to me and said softly, in pidgin English.

"I am blind, and the stick prevents me from tripping over shit in the street."

"But why are you walking with your eyes closed?" I pressed.

"My pupils are white and it freaks out people when they see me," he answered.

"Oh. So you really are blind?"

"Ja, the ladies like it though, because it means I have to really feel my way around."

"Really?" I ask incredulously.

"No, not really. I smell of pure onion, and that tends to keep the women away. I'm so embarrassed."

Still slightly cynical, I managed to pry his stick away from him, poking him in the ankle, and causing him to trip over some shit in the street. It seems this vagrant WAS blind after all, but I will reserve judgement on the other ones I've seen, until I've been proven otherwise.


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